The soldiers quickly approached from behind, and when they saw the corpse on the ground, they were stunned.
"The platoon leader is British!"
George Catlett Marshall was taken aback, walked over for a closer look, and indeed, wearing the No. 8 combat uniform, with the Royal Light Cavalry Regiment insignia hanging on the chest.
"Damn it, we hit the wrong person." The deputy platoon leader cursed behind him, his eyes shifting, "Platoon leader, should we strip them and dress them like drug traffickers?"
Traditional virtues cannot be lost.
"No need, it's a waste of time. Someone above is covering us. We need to expand our battle results now, where is the Capital City Hall?"
"Just a few hundred meters ahead."
"Charge!!"
A bunch of guys charged forward, getting blocked at a clock tower, where someone was firing down from a thirty-centimeter-wide opening, guarding the street entrance.
You could tell by the sound it was the British L86A1 5.56mm light machine gun.
